


Free

by DinkerTadoodle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinkerTadoodle/pseuds/DinkerTadoodle
Summary: Events from the summer after the war, through Eighth Year of Hogwarts.  Just basically an ode to a BAMF Hermione, who is sick of war, and a redeemed Draco who needs to figure out how to make the name of Malfoy mean something new.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. This reporter

_Excerpts from "The Trial of Draco Malfoy" as reported by Daphne Greengrass_

_The boy who lived removed his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his robes while papers were shuffled, and hushed voices passed murmurs of confusion. It seemed more of a nervous habit, than an actual need to remove dirt or grime and before long the trademark spectacles were once again on the impatient looking face of Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy’s mouth was pressed into a thin line of worry as his lawyer struggled to appear organized._

_“Sorry, so many of these cases, as you know.” The balding wizard muttered as he searched for a file._

_“Perhaps you could just ask me why I am testifying on Malfoy’s behalf?” Mister Potter offered, not bothering to hide his frustration._

_“Right.” The older wizard sighed, resigned. “The defense would like to call Mister Harry James Potter to the stand.” A scattering of surprised chuckles could be heard coming from the side of the prosecution._

_“Er… I’m already up here.” Harry replied._

_“Right. Yes, please state your name for the court.”_

_“Is that really necessary?” Harry’s snappy reply was met with a few more chuckles from the Wizengamot, and one Hermione Granger could be seen trying to stifle a grin at her friend’s cheek._

_“And what will you be providing the court today, Mister Potter?” The lawyer asked, seemingly a bit star-struck in his own right._

_“Character testimony in the defense of Draco Malfoy.”_

_“Can you explain why you believe Mister Malfoy should not be convicted?”_

_“He refused to identify us to Bellatrix Lestrange when it definitely would have ingratiated him to Voldemort and other Death Eaters.” A shudder ran through the courtroom with the casual way Mister Potter uttered the name._

_“Please refrain from using definitive language when speaking of conjecture, Mister Potter.”_

_“Alright. He knew who we were but bought us enough time to escape. Had he not done that Voldemort would have won the war right then and there. Is that too definitive?”_

_“Harry…” Chided Minister Shacklebolt himself, despite the glint of amusement in the Minister’s eyes. This reporter has to wonder if it was an actual reprimand or a reminder to the Wizengamot that Harry and the Minister were on a first-name basis. A surprisingly Slytherin gambit from the young famed Gryffindor._

_“Sorry Kinglsey.” I won’t say I saw it for fear of using definitive language, but let’s just assume that Harry Potter winked at the Minister. “Look, Malfoy and I have never been friends or even allies. But he saved my life that night. When we were escaping, he gave me his wand.” The attorney simply let out a noncommittal sound in response._

_Harry paused and simply blinked at the questioning attorney. “You work for Malfoy, right?”_

_***_

_“Mister Weasley, how would you quantify your relationship with Mister Malfoy, if not schoolmates or friends?” Ronald Weasley, best friend of one Harry Potter sat on the stand now, blinking around at the many members of the Wizengamot. While the trio had looked a little battle-weary at the beginning of these trials some twelve weeks ago, his color has returned, and a healthy glow shone upon the handsome young wizard’s face._

_“Well, he’s a git, sure. But he’s not, ya know, evil. Not evil evil. Not really.”_

_Mister Malfoy pressed his lips together in worry once again. Not a glowing testimony from his old schoolyard nemesis._

_“That doesn’t really—never mind. Thank you, that will be all.” The lawyer said, seemingly unimpressed with Mister Weasley’s contribution to the proceedings._

_“Really? Yeah, cheers mate.” There was nothing cheerful about the way the red-head left the witness stand, and the subtext of "thanks for wasting my time" was not lost on anyone._

_***_

_“Miss Granger?” The lawyer prompted after several moments of silence from the famous muggle-born witch. Arguably the most important asset to the downfall of Voldemort was this young witch’s unmatched intelligence and magical capability. Her quick wit could be seen darting back and forth just behind her eyes as she took in the entire scene before her. She was composed and analytic but magic almost crackled around her._

_“Stephen.” She replied snappily._

_“I would appreciate you call me Mister Hughley if you insist on familiar terms, Miss Granger.”_

_“This is my eleventh time testifying this month. Forgive me if I find the formalities a bit tiresome.” This reporter has to agree with the young witch, as I am running out of inventive ways to praise the Golden Trio._

_“Miss Granger, please just answer the question.”_

_“I will happily answer relative questions.”_

_“Due to the lack of objection, the Minister has determined the question’s relevance.”_

_“Kinglsey?” Hermione asked, turning and addressing the minister directly. Another great show of the high regard in which these young heroes are held. There is no mistaking the message._

_“If you please, Hermione.”_

_She huffed, acting quite put out, but there was a small smirk adorning her fine features. “Fine. Mudblood. That is the word Bellatrix carved into my arm whilst,” she accentuated her grammatical superiority over the bumbling attorney with this word, “I was being questioned.” She took a deep breath while the lawyer scratched a note on his notepad. “B-E-L-L-A-T-R-I-X. Not Draco Malfoy, make sure you take that down correctly.” She added testily. Malfoy, who had been avoiding looking up at the young witch this entire time, understandably so considering the line of questioning, jerked his head up at this, a ghost of a question in his grey eyes and an even fainter ghost of a smile on his chapped lips._

_“Thank you for your answer. Now—” But Hermione had interrupted him before he could finish his thought._

_“Are you for the defense or the persecution?” The balding man straightened up at the tone of accusation in her voice. “Forgive, me, I meant prosecution.”_

_“Are you accusing me of something untoward, Miss Granger?” The man looked genuinely rattled._

_“It’s just that you’ve done little to help Malfoy’s case with this line of questioning, you haven’t asked me about my interactions with the accused at all, but you seem to want all the gory details of the evening. Is it for shock value? Something to dangle in front of the public so that they will cheer once Malfoy is thrown into Azkaban?”_

_“Why I neve---”_

_“We are children and we already fought your bleeding war, what more do you want from us?”_

_“The ministry can only deliberate fairly if they are presented with all the facts, now if you please let me do my j--”_

_“Well I’m sorry if I have become a bit disenchanted by what the ministry deems fair and just.” She practically spat at the man, who now more closely resembled that of a tomato._

_“Miss Granger—”_

_“If the ministry is so concerned with facts here a few a you should jot down. I obliviated muggles. I broke the statute of secrecy. I broke the misuse of muggle artifact laws by adding an illegal undetectable extension charm to a handbag. I stole, a lot, from muggles and wizards alike. I imperio’d employees of Gringotts Bank in order to break into a vault that was not mine, from which I stole some more, and broke out of that vault on the back of a dragon. Dragons are intelligent creatures under the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures law 3.4.2.a.ii so that technically constitutes as abduction. I have brewed and ingested illegal Polyjuice potion so many times I lost count!”_

_“Please, Miss Granger—”_

_“I have killed.” A hush fell over the courtroom at this admission. Draco Malfoy was now watching the exchange in rapt attention, his mother, with tears in her eyes, clutched a handkerchief to her chest. “Which is more than you can say for Draco Malfoy.”_

_The old wizard sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. “Are you quite finished?”_

_“If you put Draco Malfoy in shackles, you better bring some for me too. It’s only fair.” She hissed the last word and stormed off of the stand before being dismissed. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley stood up as she passed, smug smiles on both of their faces._


	2. Chapter One: Cleared

“Cleared, of all charges.” Kingsley’s booming voice echoed around the chamber. For a moment, there was silence, and then Draco’s ears were ringing beneath the din of the Wizengamot shuffling, chairs scooting back on the marble floors, and shouts of reporters that had filled the courtroom fired around him as loud as cannons. The words rang in his ears. _Cleared, of all charges_. Fuck, he had scarcely even hoped to be able to say goodbye to his mother, it took him several gulps of air to understand the words. His useless lawyer shook his hand and scampered away, already reading the notes for the next poor sod he’d be “defending”. Draco was vaguely aware of his mother’s vice grip on his arm, her hushed words barely making it through the cacophony of shouts bouncing off the hard surfaces of the chamber.

“Free- “she had whispered. “We’re free.” His heart clenched painfully at the word, an instinctual reaction, a safeguard, don’t accept it, don’t hope it. But he was free. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find no words, so he closed it again. There had been little to no outside news in Azkaban, other than what he could overhear from the Aurors who were stationed now as guards. They had done away with the dementors, but that had been a small mercy. 

“Father?” He asked, not sure where to begin. 

His mother’s lip trembled, and she shook her head. “Still waiting. We are allowed to visit though.”

“And you?” He assumed good news as she was not being carted away. 

“Cleared.” She said, a watery smile on her painted lips. Relief coursed through him so violently he didn’t trust his own legs to hold him. Just then, a swell of reporters burst through the small gate separating the court from the observers jarring him back to his senses. His hand twitched to where his wand normally would have been, he would have to get that replaced he supposed…

“Merlin, someone get them out of here!” A commanding voice ordered from the middle of the crowd, and before long none other than Harry Potter shoved through the front of the masses of cameras and quick quotes quills. Weasley was behind him and cast a quick _sonorous_ to address the reporters. 

“Oi! You lot! You can wait for the official statement or I can open up a few holding cells, your choice!” The reporters murmured their disagreement and dislike of the command but scampered away like scolded children. Granger, using a wordless spell, threw up a barrier that muted the reporters retreat. 

“Malfoy.” Potter greeted him with a nod. 

“Malfoy, Lady Malfoy,” Granger said quietly, glancing over at where Weasley was still shooing away the last of the vultures. 

“Please, children. Call me Narcissa” His mother said, her voice wavering slightly. Draco watched as she extended her hand to each of them in turn and muttered a quiet thank you. “For my son, I don’t know what… I can never repay you for your kindness.” She finished and Granger and Potter just smiled uncomfortably under her praise. Draco had yet to find his own voice. Potter sidestepped around his mother and looked him up and down.

“You look like shite.” He said bluntly.

Draco scoffed. “Azkaban holding cells don’t carry my normal line of cosmetics.”

“ _Son_ ,” His mother reprimanded, but Potter just laughed. 

“I just wanted to let you know personally that I requested Kingsley put me in charge of ridding Malfoy Manor of dark artifacts. The more we find the worse it will affect your father’s sentencing so if you need to… remove anything you shou--” Draco, suddenly aware of the warning Potter was trying to give him, interrupted.

“No.” He interjected suddenly, and rather louder than he had intended. Granger and Potter both raised their eyebrows at him, and Draco cleared his throat. “I just mean… I’m not going to hide anything. I—I don’t want them. Whatever they are…” he muttered, trailing off at the thought of his father rotting away in Azkaban, a whirl of emotions rendering him mute. Mercifully, his mother came to his aid. 

“You will have full access to whatever you need.” She said, gripping Draco’s elbow with her trembling hands. 

“Your father’s case will be a bit difficult,” Potter stated, as if they had been friends all along, planning this together before he was chucked into Azkaban. “Since he’s of age and—”

“An arsehole.” Granger finished once she realized that Potter was struggling to find the word. “But we think we can get him house arrest, out of Azkaban at least.” This news made a fresh wave of silent tears track through Narcissa’s makeup. 

“Why?” Was all he could say. He was mostly sure that they didn’t have some ulterior motive, and that they were acting purely out of some misplaced Gryffindor altruism, but he didn’t understand why, what he had done to deserve their saintly help. 

Granger looked to Potter now, and Draco watched as they silently communicated, eyes blatantly roving over the features of the other, checking for signs of duress, it was loving and intimate, and Draco felt somewhat like he should look away. Potter squeezed her shoulder once and with a nod to Malfoy and his mother went to join Weasley at the entrance to the atrium. “We’re done fighting.” Granger finally said. “And I’m done seeing families get torn apart.” Granger turned her full attention on him now, and Draco had to force himself to meet her gaze. “Minerva asked me to bring you this.” She held out a neatly rolled scroll with the Hogwarts crest on it. Her hand was steady as he removed the scroll from her fingers. “I think she had hopes for the way the trial would go.” She explained at his look of confusion. He opened the parchment and began to read, his mother reading along over his shoulder. 

_Mister Malfoy,_

_If you’re reading this then I assume you’re no longer in Azkaban. Cheers to that glad news. I would also be glad if you would accept this invitation to finish your education at Hogwarts and sit your N.E.W.T.S. in June. Not only do I think this would be beneficial for the healing of our community, but for your own as well. As one of the top students in years past, I hope you will consider my next invitation as well, also sent along with Miss Granger. Enclosed is a materials list. I look forward to seeing you in September._

_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

When he looked up at Granger, she was watching him with a slight curve to her lips, not quite a smile, but a hint of amusement, nonetheless. She produced another object from within her robes and held it out to him. The silver pin shone bright against the yellow and brown of the room, and Narcissa let out a small gasp. 

“She’s mental.” He said, more to himself than anyone else. Granger let out a melodious little laugh.

“Possibly.” But she pushed it into his hands anyway. 

“They’ll never accept me as head boy.” He said quietly. His mother squeezed him tighter. 

Granger let out a rather undignified snort. “Well, then they will be answering to me, seeing as I’m head girl.” It made perfect sense, of course, but Potter and Weasley seemed to have accepted positions as Aurors already, he had assumed she had followed suit. Or had accepted a position in some department for the downtrodden to start working her way up the ladder, smashing through ceilings as she went. It was a little overwhelming to think of Granger so vehemently in his corner what with her wild, crackling hair and her maskless, expressive face. He didn’t know how to do friendship like that. Not that they were friends, he was quite sure he could do good deeds for the rest of his life and never deserve that kind of friendship. It was for Gryffindors who wore their hearts on their sleeves and loved first, no thought of repayment in mind, not for slimy Slytherins who saw to their best interest. He was very certain that he had nothing to offer her in return. 

“Granger, I—” but she held up her hand to stop him. 

“You don’t have to.” She said, rightly sensing that he was about to make an embarrassment of himself, publicly. Her eyes flickered around them at the lingering reporters being berated by Potter and Weasley. “Not here. Just… go home for now. Be with family.” Her smile was sorrowful as she nodded her head to his mother. “I’ll see you at Hogwarts.” She met his gaze with an unabashed curiosity, the question about whether he would return dancing behind her chocolate eyes, along with something else. It was unfamiliar to him, hope, but she let him see it in her. The least he could do was nod. Quite literally, because he was a coward, but she seemed pleased, nonetheless. The head boy pin was cool against his clammy palms. 

“Let’s go home my Dragon.” His mother said. 

Home. Cleared. _Free._


End file.
